The New Rakes Read Online Free PDF Page A

night she’d been dressed in her stage clothes. Louche , maybe sexy in a rough, punky way. But today she wanted to make damn sure she got screwed, and she was dressing specifically for Mike.
    It was a ritual she enjoyed. Putting on ‘glamour’, artfully creating an outfit with the full intention of having it taken off again in the not-too-distant future.
    To set the scene, Kara rifled through her record collection and found the perfect soundtrack: Ella Fitzgerald, a little scratched and hissy, but loaded with atmosphere. She dropped the needle on the turntable, cranked the volume up loud and opened the door so the sound would carry through the house as she dressed.
    She chose a pair of lipstick-red heels, which were shockingly vivid against her pale white skin. A black corset – left over from Ruby’s goth days – fixed with a row of thirty hooks and eyes that cinched in her waist and pushed her tits upwards. After some consideration, Kara fetched a pair of stockings from her room, pulled them on and fastened them to the corset’s hanging clips, leaving her pubis bare but flanked by nylon, straps and lace. It reminded her of the Magritte painting: a pussy in a frame. She wrapped a pencil skirt around her hips, admired the slit at the side that showed a sliver of stocking and the curve of her thigh.
    It was the kind of outfit she didn’t wear very often. Retro in a noirish dame kind of a way, restrictive enough that she had to walk with small steps and swaying hips. Most of all it was the type of outfit that turned her on as she got dressed. If she leaned to the side, the lace tops of the stockings would scratch against her clit. The underwiring in the corset gripped her breasts like they were held in two claws. Nylon slid against nylon as she walked and every part of her body felt caressed, constricted, fixed and prepped for a fucking.
    As she dressed Kara felt her confidence growing. She was as sleek and bold as a Hollywood film star, and the clock was ticking towards the hour when she’d meet Mike again. She was midway through applying a mask of foundation, blusher and eyeliner when the door buzzer went, and she nearly blinded herself as the pencil jerked in her hand. Definitely on edge, she told herself. Swearing, she went to answer the door. Tam was standing there.
    ‘What the fuck are you wearing?’ he said.
    ‘Hi, Tam. Nice to see you too.’
    ‘So, are you going to let me in, or what?’
    Kara sighed, but she stood aside and let Tam push past her into the hallway. ‘Got any coffee?’ he asked dryly.
    ‘There’s coffee in the cupboard, just like there always is.’ Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. She followed Tam to the kitchen, for some reason very conscious of the clicking noise her heels made on the wood floor.
    ‘So what’s the occasion, Miss Moneypenny?’ Tam asked, his head already in the fridge. Apparently too lazy to make coffee after all, he pulled the milk carton from the fridge and took a swig, licking off the white milk moustache as he waited for Kara to answer. She fiddled with her watch, pulling the strap a notch tighter.
    ‘One of your eyes is squint,’ he said eventually, breaking the silence.
    ‘Well thanks,’ Kara said, folding her arms. ‘Anything else you want to tell me? I’m in a rush.’
    ‘I’d like to know what’s under that skirt,’ he said, ducking his head a little as though he could peer up it from across the kitchen.
    ‘Too bad,’ Kara said, but she shifted in her heels as she spoke, remembering how exposed she was underneath the thin skirt.
    ‘You owe me a favour, remember?’
    ‘Not now,’ Kara said.
    ‘Show me,’ he said, standing his ground and not moving a muscle. He had one hand in his pocket and something in the way he stood, that cocky, slovenly slouch, seemed like a challenge. Kara hesitated. The thought of showing him her artfully dressed crotch was appealing. She knew exactly what effect it would have on him, and her body was longing